


Ugly parts

by tinyvessel



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Catholic Character, Catholic Guilt, Catholicism, Character Development, F/M, Family Bonding, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Growing Up Together, Healing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con not by Matt, Improper references to lots of other fandoms, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Protective Matt Murdock, Season/Series 03, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyvessel/pseuds/tinyvessel
Summary: Matt grew up in his private darkness, surrounded by faith, guilt and a scent of incense. Leah did too.Then they found each other.There was a time he’d try to quench the feeling between them with a substitute. But he was thirty now and done running— from Fisk, from the law and the consequences — and all he wanted to do was face his life like he should’ve years ago. With all its ugly parts out in the open. With a raw, needy heart longing for solace._____For my husband, in case he needs a reminder of what I love him for ✨ Indulge, sweetie.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	1. I found you shaking like a leaf

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I've been an avid reader of Daredevil fanfics lately but I felt like I needed to show a slightly different angle. I don't usually do this- most of my works are scattered around my laptop, unfinished- but this one is already done and will be posted in 4 chapters. It's "now" storyline goes along with DD Season 3. I loved the series and was just hoping to add yet another factor to Matt's recovery/ development in that season, a tiny subplot which might have influenced his decisions too.  
> Enjoy!

It happened on a Wednesday.

Leah was taking care of the kids. Sisters Joan and Maggie were picking up a new pile of discarded clothing from charity and left for an hour or so, leaving her with the task of quieting the naughtier lot. It wasn’t a strenuous endeavor— maybe so, because Leah always brought candies as a leverage. That day, it was the caramel ones.

They ate the sweets, hid the wrappers in Leah’s bag and when Sister Maggie finally stepped through the door of the orphanage canteen, she was dragging a whole barrowful of clothes. The bags looked heavy, sleeves and pantlegs sticking out, wiping the tiled floor.

Leah— being rather put- together as of late— rushed to help, unasked. She lifted some of the burden from Maggie’s cart and started rifling through the contents, folding them.

It must’ve been halfway through the pile when she pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Aren’t these too big?”

Maggie turned around, her face blank as ever.

Leah pointed at the slacks.

“They look adult. None of the kids will make use of it, maybe we should return it to—”

“I’ll take care of it.”, Maggie cut in, already taking the bag from her. “Go on, you give out the rest.”

So when Leah was done with the clothes half an hour later and getting ready to go home, she’d assumed Sister Maggie was still outside. It wouldn’t hurt to give in to the silence of the church and have a tour. It used to be her home at one point and she safely assumed it would stay that way.

The sky was already dark and the tiny tilt- and- turn windows were open, encouraging the cool breeze to seep into the canteen. The distant voices of the kids were stifled by thick walls and halls of the living area and nothing but faint echoes accompanied her as she boiled some water to make herself a mug of some cheap cranberry tea.

She closed her eyes for a while and took a few deep breaths. The cold city air, remnants of incense and the warmth of steaming dried fruit were a precious combination that brought back some good, good memories. Her back relaxed a little but a ghost of a frown never left her brow.

The kettle turned off. Leah poured the water and left it on a patterned oilcloth to cool down.

That’s exactly when she heard quiet, clumsy footsteps coming from the stairs to the lower chapel.

She snapped her head, fully alert, gaze glued to the entrance— only to see a weirdly wobbly male figure creeping out of there and—

“Oh, shi—!”

Water from the kettle splashed on her hand, burning it. She placed the contraption down, shook the droplets from her irritated skin and squinted.

The man was standing at the open grid, mouth parted, eyes darting frantically as if they couldn’t focus— as if the man was petrified and vulnerable like a wounded animal. At the second glance, that comparison was fitting. He was wounded indeed. Battered face, traces of stitches protruding from behind his collar and a string of ugly bruises on his hands made up to a portrait of a fallen warrior, one who should’ve been dead but somehow wasn’t.

“…Matt?”, she exhaled. “Matt Murdock?”

His eyebrows knitted, then rose high in realization.

“…Leah Davis?”

She laughed. Tears threatened to sting at the corners of her eyes but she decided to frown instead, putting on a confident face.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s me! How… What—?”

“Long story”, he cut. The voice was firm but his eyes were soft, inviting. Crinkling at the edges.

Leah walked up, taking a better look. There was a stitch on his cheek and traces of burns on his forehead. And all of that— all those injuries— were visible from here, staining the uncovered parts of his body. She didn’t dare to think what else was mapping his skin. No wonder he didn’t want anyone to see him like that, whatever he’d been through must’ve been horrible.

“You scared the literal shit out of me, I thought someone broke in.”

“I didn’t. Maggie and Lantom are having me over for a while.”

“Family reunion, huh? Got nostalgic?”

“…Something like that.”

He was quiet for a while. The wrinkles around his eyes evaporated and Leah picked up on the change in his stance— erratic breathing, like he shouldn’t have been seen here, not in this state and the fear was catching up with him.

“Leah. Don’t… Please, _please_ , don’t tell anyone about me. I’m dead. Lantom and Maggie know but that’s it. They can’t—”

“I figured. I drank my tea and left this place, never seen a soul.”

“Thank you.”

She embraced him with a tight smile. She didn’t want to feel the injuries with her fingers at all, so clenching her palms into fists, she draped them around his neck and back. Her hands were careful not to put too much pressure on any wounds he might’ve had under his shirt— and he wrapped his arms around her too, burying his nose in the crook of her neck. The hold was much too weak to their liking but it must’ve been straining for Matt anyway.

She took a step back went back to the table.

The mug was pleasantly warm.

“Hey, I don’t really know how long you’re staying and I don’t mean to impose but if you feel like catching up, I come after work to help with the kids on Wednesdays and Fridays. And Sundays, for the mass. I’ve seen you come sometimes but… It never… I just—”

“Leah. Please.”, he assured. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Grown- up life, right?”

“Yeah”, she exhaled. “Grown- up life.”

There was so much she wanted to say. A flow of words pressed on her lips, almost forcing their way to come out as a barely coherent emotional babble— all the ‘ _you’re alive’_ s, ‘ _what have you done, you idiot’_ s and ‘ _I think I might choke on how much I missed you’_ s— but it wasn’t the right time and place, and above all else, she didn’t want to scare him off.

“…Well, then. I’ll let you rest.”, she shrugged. “Guess the extra clothes were for you, huh? The pants Maggie brought here earlier. Oh dear, she’d never let me in here again if she saw me chatting you up in the exact slacks she’d tried to hide from me today.”

He didn’t react. Leah wasn’t sure if the rest of his senses were intact, he should’ve been able to hear her bustling about the kitchen earlier— just like he used to pick up on her footsteps from two floors above or hear her whisper that one, recurring prayer when she was a teen, sneaking out of her room to kneel and cry at the very front of the church.

She figured it wasn’t her job to take care of him here. Lantom and Maggie were there for him and he seemed to be recovering just fine.

It took three huge gulps to swallow the tea. She reached for her coat, buttoned it up and took the backpack she’d placed on the floor.

“Hey”, Matt tried, cocking his head. “It’s… It’s good to see you’re happy. In a… profoundly metaphorical sense.”

Leah couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in her chest.

“Thanks. It’s good to see you too.”


	2. All of their words are trying to drown you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How they met and fell apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there~  
> It turned out angsty but it was necessary. Something sweet and something bitter.

———THEN———

Matt used to be a quiet kid.

At first he was frightened, most of the time. Blindness didn’t help him navigate his social interactions— not with the other boys at least— and the overwhelming combinations of noises, smells and rough surfaces had him almost paranoid. Isolation was a difficult thing to handle. And not necessarily physically- wise.

Where Father Lantom filled in the hollow of fatherly affection, Sister Maggie was the strict mother with a soft side for hopeless causes. Matt got used to that. The unusual thing about them— and God, and the church in general— was that none of those things ever bailed out on him. Yeah, there were rough times. There was the anger, defeat, hopelessness— and then consistent violence— but no matter what Matt confessed to, as long as there was guilt, he would get the cleansing sense of closure. And guilt— well— he had enough of it to share with half of Hell’s Kitchen and still have some.

He never doubted the existence of God but he doubted his own redemption.

And maybe that was exactly what he needed to keep going. Maybe the drive of guilt, the incessant loop of distress was a gift of God, like a flood of energy to fuel his determination— to stay on track, to come back and stick to a steady course.

Leah, on the contrary, wasn’t quiet at all.

She was all over the place. Not your most dedicated pupil, not the easiest to discipline, all big mouth and embarrassing situations. She would burst out laughing out of the blue, get emotional or violent over the pettiest of things. Matt didn’t really have a problem with her but he wasn’t particularly drawn to that kind of person either. She was just a girl who seemed to want attention just as much as he did— but where he kept the need in the silence of his heart, she went out to get it.

It all shifted one day.

He was fifteen. Not his most stellar period. A good while before Elektra stepped her crimson heels in his life and wrapped him around her little finger (“melting his brain into an obedient pup”, as he now bitterly called it), he was going through the typical ”it’s not a phase” phase, questioning everything he was, getting pissed at the church and his elders— and looking for trouble. His senses hadn’t been a problem for a while. Listening to people’s prayers was like meditation, helping him focus and map his surroundings. His strength and agility were improving. It was gradual but it seemed like his life’s purpose and early vigilantism had just started knocking to his door.

He’d become good at muting the unnecessary stimuli. Remnants of smells were easy to read if he paid attention. Movements of internal organs wouldn’t reach him at all, save for heartbeats and breathing. The ugly sides of his oversensitive absorption weren’t nagging him anymore, so sitting in the church’s main hall, soaked in silent air and incense in front of the altar every once in a while became the only truly mindless activity on his schedule.

That’s why he shouldn’t have heard her at all.

It was the radiating heat crossing the veins in her head that got his attention. People prayed with a certain level of diligence, humbled by the confines of God’s home. The only people who felt comfortable— or audacious— enough to let themselves reach that level of emotion in a sacred place like this were ones who’d spent enough time here to not care about the other visitors.

Like the rest of the of the orphanage.

He couldn’t pick up the scent from there. The fosterlings did their laundry together so everyone smelt more or less the same: softening powder, soap and cheap black tea. Everyone had their own scent as well but it would require getting close and sniffing them in search of sweat— and somehow that was considered crossing a few boundaries, as if nobody accepted the truth about pheromones.

But Matt hadn’t witnessed anyone so heated before. A string of frantic whimpers kept puffing from her lips— _her_ because a feminine pronoun popped here and there— heavy tears pouring from the swollen eyes and water from her nose. She kept ranting under her breath, exhaustion from anger giving in to what felt like quiet, hollow grief.

Matt wanted to convince himself it was out of curiosity but when he stood up and approached her, he knew it was concern.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Uh. Hey”, she sighed. “Sorry, I… I must’ve been loud.”

The whisper, now wavering and thick, belonged to Leah Davis. Matt was taken aback. He knew that timber but wouldn’t ever associate it with Leah, of all people. He must’ve skipped a few stages of her adolescence— the part where spending long hours alone started being a regular thing.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Are you sure? I guess I’m not the best company right now.”

“You’re perfectly good company.”

Leah made some expression— he safely assumed it was a tiny smile— and conceded. She perched up from her kneels, scooping to the left.

Matt sat right next to her. Folded cane aside, he let his shoulders touch the backrest and listened to her deep breathing. Her skin was still exuding the heat from crying and he suspected she’d only let him join because of his blindness.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Do you really wanna listen though?”

“I do.”

There was a moment of hesitation, as if she wanted to scoff at him but decided against it.

“And why would you?”

“Because I know grief when I see it. And when it hurt the most, I wished there was someone to help me get through”, he whispered. “Trust me, coping with it on your own isn’t pretty.”

She sighed.

“I’m not sure if you can call it grief, you know? I’m just… I feel…”

Matt could hear her lungs contract as she strangled another wave of tears. She shouldn’t block it. He wanted to encourage her to let go but something in his gut told him he wouldn’t have to.

“Remember what the Father said last week, during the sermon? About how God needs silence in order to speak? How you should just shut up, switch off all distractions and listen, so you can feel at peace with Him?”

Matt did remember that, albeit from a different context entirely.

“Yes”, he said.

“What if you can’t do that?”, Leah wetted her lips. “Isolation is hard in itself. You… I guess I don’t need to explain that to you. But I’ve tried to cope with that for a while now, with how silence and trying to just _listen_ doesn’t end up well. I try. I really do. But it’s like my mind can’t switch off, like every time I try to keep the thoughts at bay they come back and drag me down even deeper.”

“What thoughts?”

“All of them. The sins I’ve confessed and should be free from, the coping mechanisms, the thoughts that my parents are out there somewhere and they just… They just gave me up once I was born. Discarded me, like I’m no better than a rag, didn’t even want to see what I’m made of. And now… Now in all this silence, in that prayer that’s supposed to help me come to terms with everything, I’m met with rejection. The same disinterest my parents treated me with, I get… I feel I get from God. And that’s apparently a lesson I need to learn, you know? That I’m self- centered and audacious enough to expect someone like God to just… _hug me_ when I’m vulnerable. To help me see that there’s something… _anything_ in me that’s worth loving _._ ”

Leah hid her face in her hands at some point. The sounds of muffled crying were only tactile because of her shoulders shaking but the impulse wasn’t as vehement as before. She was exhausted. There were no tears left.

Matt, on the other hand, was quiet.

There were many things he could’ve done to comfort her right then. Put a hand on her shoulder, hold her hand or recite a litany of soothing words— all of which were perfectly reasonable and socially acceptable. He wasn’t big on touching, unless the circumstances called for it. But not this time. He couldn’t.

His mind was rushing at a ridiculous speed. How many times would Lantom have to repeat the same phrases? To how many people? Leah’s doubts and fears, her anxiety and self- loathing felt strangely familiar, as if their stances clashed but souls were adjacent. She could understand what it meant to feel this way. She felt that too, the blame and weakness, the burden she had to carry, the trouble of tuning down the stimuli, even if it wasn’t like his. They were so different and yet…

Leah straightened up, snapping Matt out of it. She wiped her eyes with a tissue one last time and tucked it into a pocket.

“I know this sounds crazy”, she said. “You always look so composed, you know? Keeping the record of Holy Maries for five years straight is impressive. I’m spilling but I’ve always looked up to you with your unwavering faith.”

“It doesn’t sound crazy.”

“…No?”

Matt reached for her hand, slow enough for her to retract if she wanted. She opened her palm and allowed him to wrap his cold fingers around hers with care.

“No”, he said. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“…Really?”

“Yes, Leah. I truly understand. And believe me, you’re not crazy at all.”

“Is it because of your superpowers?”

“I— …What?”

“Sorry!”, she whispered, keeping his hand from leaving. “I’m… That was rude of me, I didn’t mean to bring it up at all. I’ve just… noticed how swiftly you move around and thought you must’ve been cheating on your, um… Disability somehow. And since the Avengers happened… I thought it was telepathy but I just… I let my head go way too far. I’m sorry, Matt, I really am. Please don’t hold it against me. I’m just rambling. Ignore it.”

All he understood was that based on a sheer imagination she’d assumed he was a Scarlet Witch of sorts— a compliment on his dexterity— so he brushed it off with a warm chuckle.

They sat there for another hour. Matt’s words and cooling fingers seemed to get through her skin. Forty minutes in, he ended up sharing a lot more than he’d intended— about his dad, the mom and an old man who abandoned him too, and just how he knew what it felt like to be rejected. And she would listen. And giggle. And squeeze his hand at the difficult parts.

An hour in, they were alone. The church was deserted, only the two of them and God left to talk. Their clothes were soaked in the scent of incense and when butts started getting sore, Matt suggested a short prayer to end the day on a cheerful note.

When Matt sneaked out of the shower way past bedtime and burrowed under the covers, he could still hear a merry hum from the floor above.

He fell asleep faster than usual.

*

Much later, almost three years into their symbiosis, they were spending another time out together in a cheap diner round the corner. It was the third time this week. Matt was having full- English like a real man and Leah settled on eggs with chives and mushrooms. They had one bottle of sparkling water and shared it, which might not have been too hygienic but they spent enough time doing that to not even notice.

Leah took a swig.

“Alright, next one. There’s a woman sitting at the corner. Tell me about her.”

Matt cocked his head.

“She’s drinking coffee, black, but she’d had one earlier too. Her heartbeat is irregular. It’s… either a medical condition, arrythmia or something like that, or a result of caffeine overdose. There’s a weird sound in her knees, like… rubbing? I guess you could call it that. She’s calling some female relative of hers, forcing a recipe for a ridiculously fat shepherd’s pie on her. She’s taking the cup in her left hand now but there’s something metallic on it, like… a ring. A wedding ring, yes. A simple gold band, diamonds sound… fuller.”

Leah straightened up.

“No way. That would actually make a great story. A character like that, an English widow, aristocrat, setting a net of underground black market dealers of fat so delicious it would make a 21st century opium. Delivered in shepherd’s pie so that nobody notices.”

“Oh, I like it. The second Opium War here, in Hell’s Kitchen”, Mat’s lips smacked. “Picture that: gangs bursting into the storages, stealing globs of fat and setting entire warehouses of fire. A network of scientists keeping the fat formula secret. They’d only hire blind people, obviously, so that they don’t even see what the fat is made of.”

“Yeah, but then? One of the blind workers, the guy making up the last stage of fat preparation is a smart one. Steals an ounce of two of a day’s produce, goes home, changes clothes and deals it like crack or something. Oh,” she cocked her head, “with long hair and a wide face, just like the guy at the door.”

Matt’s lips curved into a cocky grin.

“There is no guy at the door.”

“Smartass.”

Matt took the water from her, stuck it to his lips and took a big gulp. He heard Leah reaching to his plate with a fork. She stole a bean, shoved it into her mouth and hummed happily.

“You know, you’re actually going to be at an advantage in the courtrooms”, she said. “Like, listening to the judges’ intestines could tell you a lot about their culinary preferences. I’m not saying a sugary bribe is a classic catholic move but drastic cases call for drastic measures. Father Lantom wouldn’t even propose a penance for it.”

Matt laughed.

“It’s probably healthier than going full- savage, like my dad”, he admitted. “By the way, I’ve already looked through the universities.”

“Oh? Anything on your mind?”

“I’ve been thinking Columbia”, he said. “It’s close. I could come visit the church. An hour walk, thirty minutes by bus. I haven’t even looked elsewhere, to be honest, I’ll just pass the exams well enough for them to accept me no matter what.”

Leah seemed to process it a bit longer than necessary. She was quiet— unusually so— and Matt’s brows knitted together. He’d promised not to focus on her bodily functions but tuning them out in moments like these was hard to manage.

“You have everything planned out. That’s great, Matt. I’m happy for you.”

Something was way off.

“What, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure. I think I’ll have a gap year and try to sort myself out first.”

“Oh. That’s new”, his eyebrows shot up. “Weren’t you thinking about English? Teaching, as you said?”

“I have but… I’m not convinced anymore.”

“What then? Travelling?”

“No, no”, she affirmed, looking at her fingers pinching the hem of her shirt. “Working. I mean… there’s Rob. He sort of wanted to take a gap year but I think he’ll just… not apply anywhere later, you know? Just go to work. Earn some money. See how it goes.”

There it was. Matt’s frown was immediate and curved deeply into his forehead.

“And you’re allowing his choices to dictate yours.”

“It’s easy for you to say, Matt.”

“Yes, ‘cause the guy is a dick.”

He heard Leah reach for her fork and scoop a lump of scrambled eggs. It wasn’t hunger— she would eat like crazy when she was happy but never while stressed. Just like he’d thought, she pushed it to the side.

“Is he though?”, she tried. “How many times have you had someone appreciate you for something? Compliment you on a skill you’ve earned? How many people have actually wanted you around?”

“Well, you have.”

“Yeah but it’s different, isn’t it? I’ve never had anyone actively try to earn my attention before. I guess he’s just flirting with me but if there’s a chance of having this as a constant, I’d prefer that to not having it at all. I might never get a possibility like this again.”

The diner suddenly felt too small, stifling, as if the walls were closing in on them, all the people around listening to where this conversation was headed.

Matt didn’t like it one bit.

“And that’s why you do it, is that right? It doesn’t sound healthy, if you ask me. Do you even like him?”

Her heartbeat was steady— _truth—_ which irritated him beyond belief.

“I do. He’s a go- getter. He’s charming and has a lot of incentive. I’d just… like to take things slow. He’s pretty handsy with everyone, already had some girlfriends so… It doesn’t really make me feel that comfortable.”

“I’m no expert but his compliments usually end up with you feeling worse than before. What was it?”, Matt raised his head. “Ah, yes. _You’re a little too childish for me but you’re still growing up. Don’t worry, you’ll change._ Or, how about the magical pick- up- line: _You should stop talking all the time, keep some things to yourself_. That’s a good one. I have it saved in my diary in case I wanted to shred someone to pieces.”

Leah’s heartbeat sped up. There was a tinge of salt in the air— tears, he realized— and he understood he was pushing it too far. They were in a public place, the last thing he wanted was a scene. His head needed to cool off, he was getting angry again and that never ended well. He should let her be.

_But Rob was in the picture. And if he stayed around long enough—_

Matt shook his head. He tried to bite his tongue but just _couldn’t_.

“What if he wants to get intimate with you?”

“Come on, he wouldn’t. He knows I don’t…”

“He’s had girlfriends before, you said it yourself. How many of them has he had sex with, do you think? Does he really like you and respect your boundaries or is this _charm_ just a way of getting you to—”

Leah put her fork down and pushed the plate aside.

He’d crossed a line, he knew. She was getting pissed, her nose was flaring, eyes stung and voice had a lower timbre to it.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“Seriously? If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought you were jealous and I’m not really sure why. You read people like an open book. If you wanted to ask me out, you could’ve done that a million times now. What exactly are you trying to do?”

Matt’s grip on his cane tightened. She must’ve known he’d noticed. And she wasn’t even trying to fool him into thinking otherwise.

True, he’d heart her heartbeat before. It’s picked up the pace around him lately— not a lot but enough for him to notice the rest of the small changes: shallower breathing, increased body temperature and a pheromone- induced scent that overpowered the laundry powder. She was attracted to him and it was making her luscious. Beautiful. And— yes, _of course_ — he wanted to ask her out like a proper admirer would, he’d yearned for her warmth to be his for much longer than he’d like to admit.

But these were hormones. Leah had never done anything about them. She hadn’t touched him more than usual, hadn’t brought it up at all and the last thing he wanted was to take advantage of her desperate need for acceptance. He wouldn’t take that free will away from her. He wouldn’t have been different than Rob then, would he?

Matt bent over and dipped his head towards her.

“I’ve seen you hurt because of your own compliance more than I’ve confessed to Lantom— and it’s been a lot. You need to know what you want for yourself first, okay? Not have other people impose it on you like a toy you’re letting your heart to be”, he said, voice even. “Don’t go for that guy, Leah. Give yourself some time. A month ago you wanted to go to college, graduate, live your own life and grow. You deserve that. And so much better.”

“Nothing better is coming this way. Trust me”, she murmured, eyes glossy. “Haven’t you noticed you’re doing exactly what you’ve just told me to resent? You’re dictating my choices. Taking them away from me.”

“I’m only trying to be reasonable about this. To be a good friend.”

“Then be one and let me make my own mistakes”, she stood up.

Her moves here quiet but determined. She took her bag and cardigan, pulled out a few dollars and left them on the table— and just like that, she was already pushing through the door.

Matt knew it could’ve gone better than that.

He paid for himself too, stretched his cane out and followed her much faster than any non- enhanced blind man should. He was pumped up with anger, way too much to have this conversation right now but he had to— he _had_ to— because this thing was getting out of control.

“Leah—”

She stopped and waited for him to catch up.

Matt rushed to her, put his hand on her shoulder blades and urged her to take the narrow alley to the left, so they could have a relatively civilized chat without an audience of bystanders.

“Leah. Listen to me”, he huffed. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, that’s not what we are. I’m sorry, okay? And I’m sorry for… For knowing that you’re attracted to me. It’s not something I could help.”

Leah shook her head.

“No, it’s okay. I’m… glad it’s finally out in the open. It’s been festering up in both of us.”

“What do you mean, festering up?”

“Well, that’s about how long you can stay on an uneven ground, isn’t it? If you don’t want me, I’d prefer to know for sure. I have to manage my feelings. Move on.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re wrong. You’re so wrong—”

“Enlighten me, then.”

“I want it”, he barked. “I want you, okay? But now is not a good time. I won’t ask you to commit, I don’t want you to feel pressured into staying with me out of—”

“Jesus Christ, Matt! Why do you always need to make it about me?!”, she yelled. “Are you even listening to yourself? You can’t book my feelings for a suitable date. You don’t want me like that and it’s okay, but don’t even pretend you’re being _generous._ ”

Her heart was pumping like mad. She took a few deep breath, swallowing a huge lump in her throat. She pressed the back of her hands into her sockets, as if it could help her contain the tears.

“I think I know what I need to do,” she whispered and left him alone.

It was the first time he didn’t hear from Leah for more than two days.

Days stretched into weeks. He felt her presence during Sunday sermons but she fled before he could approach her. He wouldn’t chase her— there was a lingering scent of another man around her, one that made his gut churn and stomach sick. One that seemed to not even go along well with hers, overpowering and pretentious.

During the last days of September, when he was packing up for college and wrapping things up, he decided he deserved closure with her. He dragged his phone out and ordered it to send a text, his voice tense and wavering.

_Are you still with him?_

The answer came after a few hours and solidified Matt’s decision.

 _Yes._ , it said.

Nothing more.

When he left, he buried Leah’s phone number in the depths of his mind and he wouldn’t reach out to her for years, resenting the moment he screwed up the very friendship he’d tried to protect. He’d think about her every now and then— when moments with Elektra made him fall into self- disgust, when he was ditched by Claire and Karen for being _unstable_ — all of them failing to fill the spot in his heart, right in the middle, reserved for someone willing to accept his faith, morals and the demons haunting him as a whole.

He was thirty now. Too old to feel misunderstood anymore. Too tired to seek a fulfilling relationship and way too bruised to allow himself to open up to another stranger. And he’d finally realized longing for acceptance wasn’t an issue Leah was obliged to resolve— rather, a basic human need.

Leah was still in Hell’s Kitchen. Accepting. Open. Warm. _And she was happy to see him._

There was a time he’d try to quench the fire between them with a substitute. But he was done running— from Fisk, from the law and the consequences, too— and all he wanted to do was face his life like he should’ve years ago. With all its ugly parts out in the open.


	3. And the blame that you claim, is all your own fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts off angsty, ends on a sweeter note.  
> The violence is not too graphic but it's there.  
> Also: mentions of rape/ non-con.

———NOW———

This time, Leah stayed a bit longer.

She didn’t pry but Matt must’ve told Sister Maggie about their encounter. After today’s shift with the kids, the nun encouraged her to sit down in the canteen again, saying something ambiguous about recovery and happy returns. Leah wanted to see him indeed but she didn’t have the leeway to leave past eight. She made herself some tea, sipped it up in a few minutes and ran out of excuses to stay around.

Next time then. Another day.

The city air was crisp that evening. Cold breeze touched cheeks and tips of noses, leaving people’s faces tinted with a rosy hue. Hell’s Kitchen could be a stunning place if one knew where to look. The park around the church was well- kept and blooming. Grass was trimmed, flowers big, their petals saturated and lit by a chain of street lamps to match the old aesthetic of the shrine— almost as if every plant in the area was feeding on the love of their caretakers.

Leah walked through the gate, then turned right and picked up the pace. She dug out her phone, dialed a number and waited.

“Hello, Leah!”

“Hello, Mrs Riley. How’s Mikey?”

“Drowsy”, the woman said. “He’s eating porridge but looks like he could use some sleep. Are you on your way?”

“Walking past Angela’s bakery right now. Be there in a few. Thanks for taking care of him, as always.”

“No problem, honey. Glad to be of help. We’re bonding, Mike and I, next time you see us we’ll be reading my medical magazines.”

Angela’s Bakery was on the corner of 15th and 39th, and she could use the shortcut through a narrow alley to the left. It would save her a good ten minutes.

The thing was, the main road was safe. There were quite a few people here, faces and hands fully lit, some of them walking their dogs or prams, or hanging out with friends. But Leah had already wasted enough time waiting for a patched- up, blinded high school crush that never showed up and— most of all— she was tired. Her night wouldn’t end the moment she came home, she had to prepare for tutoring tomorrow and go through a bedtime routine with Mikey. A brief assessment of her physical appearance convinced her the sweater didn’t make her look too appealing. Besides, it wasn’t even that late. _Not a great target, not a real threat_ , she told herself while taking the turn.

“I’m looking forward to hearing him say _osteoporosis_ next time then”, Leah chuckled. “Okay, I’ll hung up now. Thanks again, Mrs Riley.”

“No problem, sweetie. See you soon.”

She locked the screen and slid the phone back in the pocket.

Leah wasn’t one to assume the worst. She’d most likely call herself a moderately naïve person— one whose imagination outgrew reason but wasn’t a nuisance in everyday life. She’d learnt to rely on it. Sometimes playing a million different scenarios in her head prevented her from taking excessive risks and kept her safe. Other times this imagination triggered trouble of ridiculous proportions, usually— almost always— bitter thanks to optimism.

This time she knew she was screwed the moment she saw a man emerging from behind a skip. Then another. Both of them were standing in her way, resembling homeless people but young and strong enough to grab without much effort. Somehow, more of them turned up out of thin air, blocking off her way back in case she’d try to turn on her heel and run away, which was fairly reasonable but not too imaginative. Realization came in an instant: she’s getting into a scuffle that could end up with her losing much more than her phone. And all she could think of, really, was: _just how absurd is that_?

 _It’s going to be okay_ , she hoped. Vigilantes weren’t an unusual occurrence here, in Hell’s Kitchen— with Luke Cage, Jessica Jones or the Punisher doing their thing every now and then— but she’d probably have to yell loud and endure the first beating.

She tipped her head down, evading eye contact with the folks ahead. Maybe if she could just look like a junkie— cold, unappealing and weary, they would leave her be.

“Hey, pretty lady”, she heard. “What time is it?”

So much for her grand plan.

Leah tightened the grip of her folded arms and ignored them. Her pace didn’t waver, eyes stuck to her own feet, disinterest bordering on a drug- induced zoning plastered to her face.

She took a step to walk past them but a strong chest blocked her way.

“I asked: what time is it?”

“Five past eight.”

“You so sure?”, the man licked his lips. “Could you check it for me there? Forgot my phone.”

“Um. No, I couldn’t.”

She tried to step aside, take a swift dodge and walk on as if nothing ever happened but two arms grabbed her and kept in place. Leah didn’t look up but felt the warm breath of the bigger man on her face.

“We can do it one way or the other, you know.”

She opened her mouth to say something but a loud whimper from behind her back made all of them stop. Ah, yes. The vigilante of the day. And she didn’t even need to scream.

He was barely visible in the dark, but his swift movements took down one guy after another.

Two of them were scrambling on the ground with a groan. The third got a roundhouse punch, spat blood and rushed towards the masked man, intent on trampling him with a load of bulky muscle. The thug didn’t even manage to throw his fists up, getting a series of precisely measured hits in his stomach, neck and solar plexus— his lungs deflated and his ribcage sucked in, leaving him gasping for breath. When his back hit the wall and large body slid down a grimy parget, the vigilante’s head turned to face the remaining two.

One of them yanked Leah back by the neck. The other pulled out a knife. And that seemed to aggravate the masked man a little more than they’d intended.

He didn’t even warn them. His body charged forward, stained hands smashed the armed guy’s head against the wall and twisted his arm into a painful grip, forcing him to kneel in front of Leah, legs dipped in mud and grime. The other guy seemed to understand his position— his face fell and in a momentary act of heroism, he darted for the knife laying in a puddle.

Leah wheezed, firm grip tightening around her throat. She stumbled into the water after the guy, who used his other hand to reach for the blade in the murky depth.

He wasn’t in luck. The masked guy stepped on the thug’s hand with full weight, then pulled his hostage’s arm up, coercing his muscular body to raise from the ground and shoving him right onto his accomplice with a little more force than needed.

The grip on Leah’s throat loosened and after a second of hesitation— _free, run, now!_ — she slid out, heavy fingers trying to get a grasp of her again, to no avail. She crawled back and saw the entirety of the scene before her: one guy in tight, black clothes kicking the living shit out of two muggers who hadn’t fled when they had the chance. She couldn’t discern what was happening to whom anymore but there was an unconscious body propped against a building, two lowlifes running away and the leaders— as she’d assumed— unmoving on the ground until his body started steaming off.

All of it done by one packless beast.

White puffs of warm air left his mouth, one breath after another. His arms were wide, head dipped down, watching his prey and listening.

Leah wasn’t sure if she’d been allowed to stand up yet. There was no procedure dealing with dangerous people. She supposed gratitude was due but one misstep could send some of the vigilantes into a vicious rage. Issues— it was always the issues with them. She didn’t dare say a thing but the longer she stared at him, the more familiar he appeared. The proportions of his body, the shape of his jaw and the way his hands swayed— and the lips, and nose— almost like—

His head turned towards her.

“It’s me.”

“ _You_ ”, she huffed with a surprising amount of exasperation. Her fear ebbed away in an instant. “What the hell are you doing out?!”

“Up to the roof. Then we’ll talk.”

He came closer, reached for her hand and helped her up.

Her jeans and sneakers were covered in grovel and mud. She didn’t care. She brushed off as much of it as possible and then, in complete silence, she went up the scaffold, right to the fire escape and placed her feet on the rooftop— freezing, irked and out of breath.

Matt climbed up right after her. He ripped off his mask. His hair was sweaty and sticking out in all directions, cheeks red from the evening cold, eyes frantic. If that was an indication of anything, it meant she should brace herself for some serious slashing that came up the instant he opened his mouth.

“Did you really think a lonely, young woman talking on a phone in a dark alley wouldn’t attract any muggers?”, he growled. “Are you out of your mind?!”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s eight in the evening, not nearly late enough for crime. I just thought—”

A barked laugh that left his throat was filled with disdain.

“You _thought_.”

“Yes! Believe it or not, not all of us live in the dark corners of this city, Matt! I don’t see the crime like you do, because I don’t live it!”

“Well, then you know I’m not making it up now. That thing, down there? It could’ve ended a lot worse than a regular mugging and I’m not sure you realize how serious that was. You’re safe, that’s all that matters. No need to thank me.”

“Yeah, thank you!”, she scoffed. “Thanks for saving my sorry ass! I admit, I was a next- level idiot for picking that alleyway. But your stupid brain apparently doesn’t comprehend that your body needs to recover before you go all ninja- turtle again! Last time I saw you, you were stitched up and limping…”

“…And I should stop doing that, it’s not very Catholic and makes me unstable. Yeah. Heard that before”, he snapped. “I’m done talking about it. Let’s get you home.”

Matt grabbed her elbow and pulled it.

Her head boiled up with rage. She clenched her fists, ripped herself away from his grasp and roared.

“How can someone as smart as you be so stupid?! I’m not telling you to stop Daredevilling, you knob! And I’m not on my way home yet. Just let me go.”

He licked his lips and propped his hands on his hips. It was a good sign— his head was cooling off, adrenaline giving in to concern and analysis— and Leah stood there in silence, waiting for him to process.

“Where are you headed then?”, he asked.

She hesitated.

She hadn’t been excited about Matt finding out yet. She wasn’t well equipped to lie though, with her poor bluffing skills and his super senses, he’d sniff a lie at one missed heartbeat. But, if that was the only reason, didn’t she have the right to keep her private matters to herself? And, more importantly, did she truly want to?

It was Matthew Murdock after all. Softie for lost causes. Her first sweetheart and best friend— the kind with whom time and distance didn’t matter. She wanted to believe they could reach out to each other with absolute trust at any point of their lives, that they were a unit. If Matt hit a low in his life, all she wanted to ensure was that they were on the same page. To convince him nothing between them had changed. That she still cared. That she wanted all of him, raw and battered, with all the ugly parts, if only as his most trusted friend.

She braced herself and said:

“I’m going to pick up my son.”

Matt’s eyebrows went up. He was quiet for a moment and she couldn’t shake off the feeling like he was listening to her heart. Or intestines, or whatnot. Analyzing her. That silence was almost offensive but she wanted to give him the certainty he needed.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

“…You have a son.”

“Yes.”

“But you’re unmarried. You’re raising him…”

“…On my own”, she frowned. “Whatever you’re going to say, I know. He’s my son and it’s hard as hell as it is but I love him. He’s family. I’m not giving him up to deal with the feeling of rejection like I have and you, of all people, should understand that.”

His hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles turned white.

“…I should’ve never let you go.”

“As if it would change anything.”

“It would’ve changed _everything_.”

“You say that and it sounds pretty. But your messiah complex wouldn’t have magically resolved all my issues! You’d dedicate your best years to fixing me, then resent me for eternity and I assure you, none of us would like that”, she said, her voice breaking. “We’ve done some growing up and it’s a good thing. We’re better now. Time’s not going back.”

“At the very least, I wouldn’t have let that sorry excuse of a human being use you like that. What happened to him?”

“Exactly what you’re thinking”, she shrugged. “Barged in one night, yelled at me, fucked me, found out a few weeks later and… vanished. Never heard from him again.”

A chilly breeze smeared their arms and necks. City noise was fading away, people returning to their homes, locking doors and opening windows, their voices dying down, muffled by the layers of brick and concrete mounting above the ground. The sky was almost clear, clouds scattered here and there, ripped by strong winds foretelling an oncoming storm.

It was getting late.

Leah’s body was deflated. There was no more anger left, nothing to fuel this fight anymore. She’d never wanted to argue with him in the first place. It felt odd like a note out of tune— so she pressed her lips into a thin line and glanced up at his face.

Matt looked like wanted to say something— a threat to Rob, another fit, a promise to beat him up so hard he’d kiss the earth from the upside down— but he must’ve felt her muscles relax. It seemed like it cost him the world but his face softened and the frown disappeared.

There was so much left unsaid. Words hanging in the air. Promises that both of them now regretted they hadn’t made a long time ago— when they thought they were being reasonable and open- minded but in reality, they were just too young and stupid to understand the meaning of it. _A promise is not a cage_ , Father Lantom said. _It is an act of love and should be treated as such_.

Matt finally let his hands loose. He bit his lip, sighing.

“That was one hell of a catching up, huh.”

“Felt like aggressive speed dating on an anxiety attack.”

“Pretty much”, he smiled. “That’s… not exactly what I had in mind when I thought about meeting you again.”

“I’d say we skipped a few steps.”

She snorted, rubbed her arms and looked at him. His face was defeated, tired with a shadow of an adrenaline- driven high but a ghost of a smile was tugging at the corners of his lips and she wouldn’t allow it to fade away any time soon.

Leah’s arm reached out and her fingers wrapped around his dirty knuckles.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah”, he sighed. “You?”

“Am too. I’m sorry for being so reckless. And yelling at you. And… ghosting you after that day in the diner. I should’ve been smarter than that.”

“And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry for that and avoiding you for so long. Please, forgive me. I just…”, he worried his lip, “I regret I hadn’t… I wish there was a way to— to fix what we—”

“You’re saying it as if it’s been already lost, you dumbo”, she murmured. “You’ve got super- senses, can’t you feel it? I’m not going anywhere. Just look at us now. Think onwards.”

She kept rubbing her thumb against his skin until his shoulders squared, regaining composure.

Matt squeezed her hand. His smile wasn’t perfect but it was a little brighter.

Leah brushed his hair back and sideways to get rid of the wild tufts. She pulled a wet tissue out of her bag and rubbed his face as gently as she could, running it across his forehead and cheeks down his jaw and neck, wiping the smears of dirt and grime away and leaving his skin pink. He was focused on her. She could feel him picking up on the cues her body was giving away.

“Can I watch over you as you go?”, he whispered. “Wherever you want.”

“Should I read into it?”

“Yes.”

She bit her lip and hummed.

“Only if you agree on keeping that atrocious mask away from Mrs Riley. She’s got a heart condition and I can’t afford a nanny.”

He clicked his tongue.

“Cheeky. I thought we had a moment.”

Leah stepped away from him, assessing their surroundings. She couldn’t go back down to the same alley but there was a fire escape at the other side of the building too.

He followed.

“So, what’s his name?”

“Michael”, she said, placing her hand in the crook of his arm. “Once we’re home you can come say hi, he’s three next month.”

“Great name. It’s my middle.”

“I know”, she smiled. “The Prince of Archangels. One would’ve thought naming a son like that would ensure some extra spiritual protection.”

“You must’ve known me well enough to know it doesn’t work like that.”

There was a scent of begonias hovering over someone’s kitchen’s windows and the mix of India- spiced tea floating in the air.

“Actually”, Leah said, “I’ve been rather prompted by how it works for you.”

“Seriously? I wouldn’t say beating people up in a devil’s costume is a picture- perfect representation of superb spiritual patronage.”

“And yet you keep coming back for redemption”, she said. “Sounds like faith to me.”

She stopped right at the stairs. Her fingers slid off his elbow and she went down three steps but his hand followed to trace her arm and catch her palm in a loose grip.

She turned her head. Matt’s face was incredulous.

“Am I reading into it or are you implying you’ve named your son after… me?”

She smiled.

“How’d you phrase that in your lawyer- y jargon? Ah, yes. I plead the fifth.”

Her voice was lighthearted but his eyes stung at the corners.


	4. Tell me everything that I want to hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Aaand it's done!  
> I didn't want to steal the spotlight from Matt's fight with Fisk. This scene would take place somewhere around the last/ penultimate episode of Season 3.
> 
> I also wanted to write another chapter to show them bonding again but I thought it would make Matt a little OOC, regarding the storyline of Season 3. He was too focused to have time for a proper date- and I felt like he wouldn't want to come to Leah for medical assistance. You know, the kid is home. Seeing a bloody man in his room can't be a great experience.  
> I may get back to this fic to add a chapter like that though but I guess I'll need ideas 🙏
> 
> I appreciate all feedback! Your kudos and comments mean the world to me ❤️
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3
> 
> PS.  
> I've taken the Chapter Titles from Bear's Den "When You Break". It fits Matt in S3 SO DAMN MUCH I just couldn't resist.

It'd taken three patch-ups in the church to talk everything out. There was a little crying, a whole lot of touching and healing of their scarred bodies and fragile souls.

Then, it took six evening teas at the canteen with cheap store- bought chocolate chip cookies to get comfortable with laughing out loud. Matt'd been listening to Leah's heartbeat and held to it like a lifeline. His anger was ebbing away washed off with a soft, familiar light. His drive was still there, the devil everlasting, but it wasn't nearly as prominent as before. He'd missed this. The calm and comfort. Being human again.

And later, it took exactly five times helping her with groceries to feel like that's something he wanted for good. It was the small things. He'd stayed an hour or two at Leah and Michael's apartament, spent some quality time with the boy and talked to his mother, helping her dry the dishes. And these detours from his Daredevil routine, diving into the warmth of a regular, uncomplicated home seemed to serve him well. He longed for it more and more every day, softened up to Foggy and Karen too, started reaching out to the law for help and actually planned to get his legal career back.

It was a month later when Matt knocked on her pane.

He was dressed in his black clothes, no mask on. His body was threatening to release an adrenaline shot— one which would push him to end Fisk altogether. He still had a few hours and his heart itched to check in on them one last time, before he put everything he was and everything he believed in at God’s mercy.

Leah came up and opened the window.

“Hello there”, she said in her best Kenobi voice.

He chuckled.

“Hi. Am I, uh. Interrupting?”

“Don’t be daft. Hungry?”

“Haven’t thought about it but… yeah. A bit. If it’s okay.”

“Sure! Come in. Let’s feed you up.”

He placed his feet on the floor with a soft thump and followed Leah to the kitchen.

Mikey was sitting at the table, eating a sandwich. His head shot up, eyebrows rose and bread- filled cheeks tried to chew it up and swallow so fast he nearly choked.

“Mom! Dad!”, he called. “Dad!”

“It’s _Matt_ , sweetie. His name is Matt.”

Leah wasn’t making a big deal out of it but Matt’s chest filled with affection. He strode towards the chair, grabbed Mikey with both arms and lifted him as far up as he could in one swift move. The boy burst into giggles.

“Come on, little fella! Can you reach the ceiling yet?”

Mikey stretched his hand as far up as he could, the buttery tips of his fingers almost brushing the white paint. He whimpered, tried again and dejected with a whine.

“No… Too small.”

“Cheer up, don’t you know what that means?”, Matt brought him back to his arms and brushed his nose with a fingertip. “It means you’ve got room to grow. You’re getting stronger, faster and wiser every day, just listen to your mom and you’ll be alright. Am I right, your honor?”

“Affirmative, wise man! Eat the rest of the sandwich, Mike, it’s got eggs. You need them to grow.”

“Grow big like dad!”

“It’s _Matt_ ”, Leah called from the stove but every time she said that was less convincing than the last.

Mikey had a funny frown when he touched Matt’s face— as if he was trying to figure something out. Matt wished the boy wouldn’t feel unsafe with him. Not being able to maintain proper eye contact the first time they met didn’t seem to be much of a problem but they hadn’t had the ‘blind talk’ yet. There was definitely going to be one soon if Matt keeps coming over.

A bitter tang invaded his mouth. This future was an _if_.

“…Matt? Yes?”

Oh.

“My name is Matt, yes”, he grinned, trying to hide the distress from Mikey. “Good job, buddy.”

He put the boy back in his chair and humbly came up to the sink to wash his hands. The smells hovering over the kitchen counter brought back good memories— the time Leah snuck out of her room in the middle of the night to make some cheesy toast in the canteen and talk out some of the usual teenage angst with him. They always cleaned up later. Nobody’d ever known.

“Sandwich. You eat too?”, Mikey chatted up.

“Yes but he’s got double cheese with ketchup inside”, Leah said, pulling out two squares. “He won’t tell you that but he eats it when he’s stressed or indulgent. It’s called ‘comfort food’.”

“You’re made of gold, Leah.”

“I’m pretty sure if I were, I would be currently being traded for some serious money on a black market. Not a bad fate if you ask me but all those stranger hands checking if I’m not a fluke… uh.”

“Real men know gems when they see them.”

“What if they’re blind?”

“Not to brag but they know even quicker. Sight is overrated.”

She groaned but there was a smile on her face.

“I don’t even know which is more cringey: my pick- up lines or your retorts.”

“Either way, I’d call it a match on an extremely low rundle”, he bumped her shoulder and received a plate filled with stacked- up sandwiches. “Thank you. Do you need help cleaning up?”

“Nah, I’ll do it later. Will you be here for ten minutes though? Sorry for asking but I’m dying for a shower and I usually have to take one once there’s no hot water left.” 

“Sure, go on.”

Once Leah disappeared in the bathroom, Matt took the seat closest to Mikey.

He wanted to give the boy his full attention, he really did. He listened to him babbling something about the structure of a soft- boiled egg (orange seepy) and some perilous truths about being a toddler (stove ouch). Matt was fully capable of maintaining the conversation on a level which must’ve been satisfying for Mikey but his mind wandered off to what was yet to come.

Oddly enough, Mike swallowed the sandwich in less than three minutes. Matt thought he could tell him a story— that would occupy his own mind for a moment, while keeping the boy engaged as well. He finished his last sandwich and picked Mikey up with a pleasant warmth in his stomach.

When Leah left the bathroom, skin hot from the shower and hair damp, she was greeted by a maskless vigilante walking around the room with a baby sleeping like a log in his arms.

“How?!”, she whispered.

“Not sure”, he mouthed. “His heartbeat was calming down and breathing got deeper so I just kept walking around.”

“Is this a joke?”

Matt shook his head.

“It’d be a good one though. Do you want me to put him to bed?”

“Sure. Every day around nine. Just give me a heads- up so that I brush his teeth first.”

She let him into Mikey’s bedroom. The scent of baby skin, wet wipes and a week- old bedsheets filled his nostrils. There was a bed in the right corner, surrounded by toys and books scattered around a carpet— Matt stepped around them with astounding precision and put the warm toddler on a pillow, covering his back with a duvet and tucking it. He drew a tiny cross on his head with a thumb— a blessing— like Maggie did when he was young.

Once he got out of the room he closed the door with a barely audible thud.

Leah was standing at a tilted window. The cold air was seeping inside, brushing against her body. He guessed she was dressed in a top and pajama shorts, her arms draped with a long, thick shawl. He could hear its hem smearing against her skin.

“It’s today”, she said. “You’re going out there, aren’t you. To bring him down.”

Matt nodded and walked towards her.

“I have to. Everything’s at stake. The FBI agent, Nadeem, the one I trusted with intel? He’s just given up his life to complete that. He… He had a wife. And a son”, he took a long, shuddering breath. “And I can’t help feeling like I deserve no better.”

“I understand. And there is no other way, not a chance that you let it go.”

“I can’t stop. Not right now. Fisk is out, I need to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone again. He knows my name. And Foggy’s and Karen’s, and he’s after us all so I don’t really have a choice anymore. I need to— I want closure. Whatever it takes.”

She took his head in her hands.

“You’re talking like a professional Avenger, you know that?”

“Wait, are we even arguing?”

“Do you feel like it?”

He sighed.

“…I feel nothing and everything at once.”

Her fingers were caressing the edges of his jaw. The stubble he’d grown was longer than usual, unkempt and far away from lawyer- y, covering up a nasty cut on his chin. His breathing was uneven, mouth closed but lungs shallow. He put his calloused fingers on her waist.

“I’ll never tell you what to do, Matt”, she whispered. “Back when we were young and stupid, we would preach and give in to the very sins we disdained other people for. But… we’re not exactly young anymore, are we? As to ‘stupid’ though…”

Matt chuckled.

“That one never seems to go away, doesn’t it?”

Michael’s loud snore reached their ears. Bedroom door was closed but apparently a three- year- old nose could challenge a trumpet in that regard. And there was a different kind of peace to it— a peace Matt hadn’t tasted yet but would love to— clandestine exchanges of tired whispers after dusk, in the quiet of a real, soft, baby- scented home.

Leah pecked him on the wrinkles down his temple and rested her forehead against his.

“I love you. I always have and never stopped. Neither did Foggy, nor Karen, or Lantom, or Maggie. So if you need an anchor, just think about us, okay?”

“What I’m doing is out of love.”

“…And your desire to keep us safe”, she recited. “I know. Stop forcing excuses for once, dumbo. I trust you. It’s okay.”

His mind was clouded, heart overwhelmed and adrenaline buzzing in his head wanted to give in to the urge— to lean just a few inches closer, to graze his lips against hers, to taste her breath and feel her pulse with his own mouth. To apologize a hundred times, and then some more, for leaving her behind and failing to protect her heart from Rob’s filthy hands. To repent of how easily he’d given in to Elektra, the cocky child within him looking for posh, ugly pleasures when the solace and peace he’d been longing for had always been right here. After everything they’d been through, here they were. Together. As if the tides of time pulled them back in place.

His fingers were still wrapped around her waist, thumbs idly rubbing at the hips, heat seeping and pouring through his skin. Calloused tips itched to reach under the hem of her shirt and love the scars that marked her sides like there was no tomorrow.

It was such a stupid idea. Hopeless, he’d say.

He leaned in.

It was barely there. A ghost of a kiss placed on Leah’s gentle smile. Too delicate to speak but enough to make her eyelashes tremble. Matt would’ve given anything to hear her pulse but his own heart hammered in his chest so loud he couldn’t focus.

He pulled back and breathed something that resembled:

“I’ll be careful.”

“No, you won’t”, she laughed, unwavering.

The heat radiating from her chest made him lightheaded. Her heartbeat reached his ears. It was elevated but steady, joy filling her veins in an unceasing flow and as the scent of her— just her, no incense, no laundry powder, no grey soap, _no_ _Rob_ — darted into his orifices, he was overwhelmed with what it meant for him.

A smoldering primal instinct made his voice hoarse.

“Is it okay if I kiss you again?”

“Depends”, she opened her eyes. “Is it a one- time thing? A spur of the moment?”

“Only the courage to ask”, he murmured. “But my heart’s been in it for longer than you think. I’d… want it to be a constant. All of it. If you’ll have me.”

She giggled— again— probably feeling a little dizzy with pure joy but the sound of her contentment in its wholeness and proximity stirred an entirely different emotion in his gut. She was happy. Truly happy. _With him._

“Always”, she said.

He captured her lip with his making her hands flutter up to his face again. Tips of her fingers scraped at his stubble again, thumbs moving forward to touch the crinkling skin around his eyes— to adore the net of wrinkles and creases— and then she reached further, to stroke his jaw and ears, and pinch at the hair on the nape of his neck. She tittered. He gasped into her mouth, drunk on the sound and caught her lips again.

She wasn’t blind. She didn’t need to trace his face to see him but for some reason she did it anyway— and he would humbly accept whatever she graced him with.

He broke the kiss first, staying as close to her as humanly possible.

“I love you”, he panted. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“A terrible decision, really.”

Matt nuzzled her nose, eliciting another quiet laugh from her. He should’ve done it years ago.

“I need to go now. If we play this right, this entire thing will be over before you know it.”

“And you’ll start walking in through the door?”

“And I’ll start walking in through the door.”

She chuckled.

“Will you be offended if I pray you make it out alive?”

“That’s about the most sensible thing you can do”, he said, kissing her forehead. “I feel like I’m not God’s favorite at the moment.”

“Fair enough. I’ll just stay here and keep believing in you, ‘cause you’re terrible at it.”

Matt wrapped her tight in his arms and breathed in one last time before stepping on the ledge. He turned around only to feel Leah’s hands dipping his head to thumb a cross on his forehead.

“Come back home”, she whispered. “We’ll be waiting.”

He nodded and vanished into the night.


End file.
